


the silence of the stars and sea

by Fatale (femme)



Series: post episode ficlets [3]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03e05 Stronger Than Heaven, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-25 22:33:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14388480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femme/pseuds/Fatale
Summary: It's the second morning in a row that he's woken up alone, and he doesn't like it, the way the emptiness pulls at his chest and makes something hollow there ache.Bingo Square: EpistolaryTeam: Green





	the silence of the stars and sea

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from Silence by Edgar Lee Masters
> 
> for the bingo square: epistolary. fuck it, i know this is kind of a fail. but i tried!!  
> betaed by [Demonic_activity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demonic_activity/pseuds/Demonic_activity)

 

Magnus wakes up to an empty bed and sighs. He pulls on his robe and heads to the kitchen for some tea.

On the refrigerator is a note:  _gone out for some coffee, be back later. - a_

Magnus doesn’t know why Alec always signs his notes. Who else would be leaving them around? But still. It's the second morning in a row that he's woken up alone, and he doesn't like it, the way the emptiness pulls at his chest and makes something hollow there ache.

He has perfectly good coffee here. He would get more coffee, better coffee, give him an entire coffee shop of his very own, if it would just make him stay. But Magnus has given people more than that, and it never worked before, so why would it now?

He gets started making tea.

 

\---

 

Alec finds one of Max's notebooks left in his room -- a small leather-bound book, new, pages stiff, spine un-cracked. He means to set it aside to give it back to him, but as he looks at the lined pages, he grabs a pen and starts writing. 

_Magnus-_

_When I was twelve, Jace and I were sparring. A sucker punch got through my defenses and hit me square in the face. I felt the flash of pain -- hot, throbbing, mouth full of blood, a tooth knocked loose -- but I kept fighting, because Jace and I had been talking about being parabatai and I wanted that and wanted him, and that's what you do when you want something badly. You fight for it, so I think I have to fight for you--_

A knock on the door interrupts him, and Izzy pokes her head in. 

"Anyone naked?" she asks.

"After you've already barged in seems like a bad time to ask," Alec says, crabby.

"Who pissed in your cereal this morning?" she asks, eyebrows raised. 

"No one," Alec says, running his hands through his hair. "Sorry, I'm just--stressed."

"Want to talk about it?"

“Sure, except the person I need to talk to about it keeps arguing with me."

"Ah," Izzy says. "Well, I'm here if you need me."

 "Was there something you needed from me?" 

 She looks a little sorry to be saying it, but tells him, "Something in OPS you should see."

 "I'm coming," Alec says, standing up and straightening his clothes. The notebook sits on his bed, forgotten.

 

\---

 

After their last argument, Alec isn't sure he trusts himself with Magnus. No matter what he says, it seems to be the wrong thing. He thinks, if he could just organize his thoughts coherently, lay out his issues for Magnus, then everything would be better. There must be some common ground, some magic words to make things okay again between them instead of this ever-changing landscape, like plate tectonics, shifting the very foundation he’d built his beliefs on. But Magnus is the warlock and Alec is just a Nephilim, and he doesn’t have the words, just the cold clutch of fear and a jumble of half-formed thoughts. 

So, because he can’t do anything else, he settles for a drink. He texts Magnus, _Something to do, be home late._

He stares down at the text in his hand. That's not entirely true, is it? The loft isn't his home; Magnus has made that very clear. 

Alec deletes the text and slips the phone back into his pocket.

 

\---

 

Magnus sits at his desk, taking stock of his ingredients, his phone next to him, stubbornly dark. He could call Alec, but something stops him.

He feels the beginning of the end, and he's not ready for it, never is. He's been down this road too many times before: people that couldn't deal with his immortality, jealous lovers competing with ghosts, fragile mundanes that slip through his clenched fingers like sand.

He meant it when he told Alec that he had unlocked something in him. Before Alexander, he'd been caged, wrapped suffocatingly tight in fear, had decided that nothing could be worth the pain of eventual loss. But then Alec had come stumbling into his life and left Magnus unsure and unmoored and hopelessly infatuated.

Magnus flips to the next page and picks up a pen.

 

\---

 

A letter, carefully folded, unfolded, then crumpled up and thrown in the trash: 

_Alexander --_

_I wish you could understand that my love is not a finite thing. It doesn't end or get recycled and reused. My love for you is new, exciting, more than I thought I could ever feel again and, oh…_

_Call me, you stubborn asshole._

 

\---

 

His phone rings and Magnus answers sleepily. He sits up, fully awake when Clary says, "Magnus, Alec's been hurt."

 

\---

 

Izzy meets him outside Alec's bedroom at the Institute. "The Silent Brothers are finishing up. He was attacked by a demon on his way back here. He may have been drinking." She grins wryly. "But he's going to be fine."

"Can I see him now?"

"Sure,” she says, holding the door open.

Alec is lying on the bed, pale and so heartbreakingly young. Down his neck is one long scar, already fading, thick white bandages across his ribs, and Magnus shudders at how close he came to losing him.

He sits on the edge of the bed and watches Alec's eyes flutter open, not quite focusing.

"Hey,” Alec says. 

“What happened?”

“Demon, the usual. Fell back on my own goddamn arrow,” Alec says, sounding dazed and furious.

Magnus desperately wants to live in the moment, but the future is what keeps tainting it. What is he doing, wasting their time together, trying to protect his heart? He's already given it to Alec, so now he has to trust him not to break it.

"Come home," he says, pressing a light kiss to Alec's forehead.

"Don't have a home," Alec mumbles, eyes slipping shut. 

If Magnus thought he couldn't ache anymore, he was wrong. "Your home is with me," he whispers, close enough to feel Alec’s breath against his cheek. 

"Oh, yeah? That’s nice,” Alec says, chest rising and falling beneath Magnus’ hand.

 

\---

 

Magnus is packing a few outfits when he finds the small journal. Curious, he flips it open to see Alec’s messy, cramped scrawl. It’s obviously meant to be private and he almost closes it, but his own name catches his eye. 

He sits on Alec’s bed, reads through it, then grabs a pen and writes beneath it-- _So fight._

 

\---

 

Magnus is scrambling eggs when Alec comes into the kitchen, small book tucked under one arm and a very familiar box in the other. 

The box, _the box_ , that fucking Pandora’s box.

“Alexander,” Magnus says, his earlier peace dissipated, a deep-seated exhaustion creeping into his bones.

“It’s not what you think,” Alec says, mouth set in grim determination, an expression that Magnus once found charming. He sets both items on the table and leaves.

Magnus takes the eggs off the stove, feeling sick.

Alec comes back a minute later with the arrowhead that was dug out of his side, brown and crusted with his blood. It’s morbid, a visceral reminder of Alec’s mortality, and Magnus irrationally hates it. 

He hands it to Magnus. "For your box, if you want it," he says, a little shyly, too hesitant for Magnus' liking.

"I can’t--”

"I think," Alec says slowly, choosing his words carefully, "when you've never had someone to take care of you, it can be hard to accept. I could be that person if you'd let me."

Magnus takes the arrowhead, cool in his palm and surprisingly heavy. He flips the lid open, looks down at the contents that have haunted him for years. He can’t let go of them, but maybe--maybe he can share the hurt, turn it into something tender and aching, memories of love instead of loss. He thinks that if he wants Alec to fight for him, then he has to be willing to do the same.

He sits down at the table across from Alec and carefully pulls each of the items out. “This was George, who fought in the Civil War,” he starts, and goes through each memento, dragging up memories from the past, half-forgotten and bittersweet.

When he’s done, Alec says, “Thank you.”

“You deserved to know. I should have told you earlier.”

Alec leans back in his chair.  “When the demon attacked, I could feel the blood sticking to my shirt, pouring down my neck, but I knew I had to survive because I needed to see you again." 

He nudges the arrowhead closer. "This is Alec Lightwood, who fought for you, who didn't leave."

With a deep breath, Magnus takes it, fingers trembling, and adds it to his collection. He closes the box, already knowing that he’ll never need a piece of metal to remember Alec.

The morning light is streaming through the windows, casting a buttery yellow haze over them, still and calm. Some things can’t be seen up close. It’s only with time and distance that you can get the sense of what you’re really looking at. It’s too early to call it just yet, but Alec feels different, important in a way Magnus hadn’t anticipated, but he’s ready, willing, and unafraid.

He’s beginning to suspect that Alec might just change his life. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
